


Fight For Yourself

by Acinonyx1



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anorexia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poor Hanzo Shimada, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acinonyx1/pseuds/Acinonyx1
Summary: “When did you last eat?”Hanzo frowns, confused. “Genji is the one with the eating disorder.”“And when didyoulast eat, Hanzo?” McCree asks again.—The story of how Hanzo ends up battling Genji’s eating disorder and ends up destroying himself without even noticing.And how it takes McCree for Hanzo to realise he doesn’t have to fight alone.





	1. Carer

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tags before reading. Also know that some characters may have conversations/opinions regarding some of the topics in the tags that may not be considered the most correct or okay. All characters are in their 20s.

Hanzo pushes Genji’s bowl closer and abandons his own breakfast in favor of frowning at his brother. “Genji, please. Just a little,” he pleads, taps the edge of the bowl in encouragement and can do nothing more but watch Genji swirl untouched cereal around the bowl. 

“I told you, I’m not hungry,” Genji replies and the brothers find themselves in a competition only Hanzo has willingly entered. He doesn’t look away until Genji looks back irritated and sighs. He makes a point of scooping up a bit of cereal, chews it with a glare and then drops his spoon in the bowl among soggy remains and pushes his breakfast away. 

It’s the only thing Hanzo will get Genji to eat all day. It’s better than most days. Hanzo gets to be thankful for at least that.

Genji gets up and Hanzo trails after him into the hallway. He hovers around his brother like a mother, slips an apple in his coat pocket when Genji’s not looking and worries about the way Genji’s clothes look loose on him now.

“Genji -.”

“Can you not? I had a big meal last night, quit worrying.”

Hanzo scowls. “You didn’t eat the leftovers in the fridge. I told you to eat them. You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

Genji laughs and Hanzo winces at the hollow sound of it. A hand clasps him on the shoulder. “Did you give up office work to become a detective instead, brother?” Hanzo gets a smile that’s too wide. “I got takeout last night. Happy?”

 _You’re lying_ , Hanzo wants to say. Instead he pushes a granola bar into Genji’s hand before he pulls away even though he already knows it’ll go uneaten. Genji scoffs at him, does a mock salute and leaves Hanzo standing in their tiny hallway, hands clenched, jaw tight as the door slams shut.

Hanzo ends up cleaning away two uneaten breakfasts and leaves for work with a cigarette between his lips.

\--

Jesse McCree is the only person in the entire the building to smoke a cigar. 

He’s loud and full of smiles, annoying in a sort of endearing way that reminds Hanzo of Genji. He’s tall and tanned and rugged and speaks with southern drawl that Hanzo doesn’t always understand.

Hanzo still has no idea how he gets away with wearing a cowboy hat with a suit.

“Bit early for ya, ain’t it?” 

Hanzo brings his cigarette back to his lips and inhales deep. They’re the only two stood in the dedicated smoking area outside their work. “Do you keep tabs on me, McCree?” He keeps his eyes to the street, watches passersby with a keen interest but he knows McCree’s smiling at him. 

Hanzo likes it when McCree smiles at him like that.

“Darlin, don’t think I could keep tabs on ya even if I wanted,” McCree says and leans back against the building wall. “Just know you’re not usually the one for a mornin’ smoke.”

Hanzo shrugs. “Habits change,” he offers and avoids saying this is his third smoke of the morning.

“I might like this habit,” McCree grins and then winces and hurriedly adds, “I didn’t mean the extra smokin’ – I mean, uh.” 

Hanzo hides his smile by taking another drag.

“Said that all wrong didn’t I. I just mean I like spendin’ time with ya,” he finally says with a chuckle that borders on awkward. 

“I’m sure there are more interesting people for you to spend time with,” Hanzo says even though he likes everything about McCree. And he likes the way that McCree sometimes looks at _him_ like he’s everything. 

“Now don’t be sayin’ that, sweetheart. You’re mighty interestin’.”

McCree’s always like this. He throws compliments out and Hanzo always finds himself hungry for them. The way McCree says them makes them sound real.

“A cowboy finding a boring man in a boring suit interesting? Sounds like you don’t know enough people, McCree,” Hanzo teases. He puts his smoke out on the sole of his shoe and then throws the butt in the bin. Hanzo stands tall and then shifts a little. His suit doesn’t feel as fitted as it should.

As Hanzo moves to leave McCree sighs. “Don’t think there’s a single borin’ thing about you, Hanzo.”

“You say that to everyone.”

“Nah, I don’t,” McCree says and then fidgets with his cigar. “Darlin’? Would ya – Would ya like to get somethin’ to eat after work?”

“Oh.” Hanzo stares at McCree and then looks away with a frown. He has to say no. He needs to get home and make sure Genji eats something today at least. So he looks back up, opens his mouth with the full intention of letting McCree down. But the cowboy’s staring at him with something like shy hope and Hanzo finds himself nodding instead. “Yes. Okay.”  
He gets a big toothy grin that makes him have to hide a blush with one hand. 

It’s worth it. Just one night. Just one night where Hanzo gets to be Hanzo. 

“That’s mighty nice of ya to say yes. There’s a little burger place not too far if that’s okay?”

“Okay,” Hanzo says.

“Okay,” McCree smiles.

\--

Two smoke breaks full of shy glances later and McCree’s guiding him to a small burger joint tucked away in a corner. It’s a tidy homely sort of place and Hanzo finds himself in a booth scowling at a menu in no time.

“The burgers are real good here,” McCree guides and taps his finger over Hanzo’s menu. “Best handmade guacamole if ya like that sort of thing.”

Hanzo nods but turns to look at the side dishes instead. His stomach twists and he finds himself thinking that Genji wouldn’t eat anything here. Maybe the salad if Hanzo begged.

A waitress comes to take their order and McCree orders enough food for three people. He upgrades his shake to an extra large and smiles big enough for the waitress for the waitress to throw in an extra four onion rings for free.

Hanzo startles when the waitress turns to him. He forgets all about the chicken burger with guacamole he’d planned to order and then just says, “the salad, please.”

The girl nods and writes it down and then looks back at him. McCree’s staring too and it takes a while for Hanzo to realize they’re waiting for him to order something else. He scrambles for the menu.

“Uh. Fries. And a water.” 

The waitress nods and disappears.

“Not hungry, darlin’?”

Hanzo shrugs and McCree doesn’t look too happy with his dismissive reply. 

He’s distracted when his milkshake comes. It’s the size of his head. And when they’re food arrives Hanzo isn’t all too sure how McCree’s fits on his plate. 

Hanzo gets a neat little salad and fries and two onion rings that are explained when he looks up confused and gets a pretty smile from the waitress. “Can’t have you starving away when your friend here is clearing out our kitchens,” she says and leaves Hanzo squirming in his seat as McCree digs in. He wraps an arm around himself and discretely pokes at his stomach. 

He’s fine. He’s healthy. He’s not Genji.

McCree ends up dragging him into conversations that are a little one-sided but still fascinating. It seems McCree’ll talk about almost anything and he practically inhales his food.

Hanzo nibbles on some fries and stirs his salad around and feels happier than ever whenever he adds something to the conversation and McCree looks at him like he’s worth the world.

“Tell me somethin’ about ya. I’ve been talkin’ too much.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Somethin’ about ya that’s not about work or how handsome ya are because I already know about both those things,” McCree grins from behind his shake as Hanzo snorts.

“I -.”

_I have a brother who barely weighs 100 pounds. He smokes instead of eats and I’ve seen him throw up more times in the past year than I’ve seen him smile._

“I’m 25 and I live with my brother and…” _I’m terrified for when his body will give out on him_ , “I haven’t been on a date in years,” Hanzo finishes. Self-conscious, he ducks his head. Nothing about that was interesting.

“I just think I’m a very lucky man right about now,” McCree says and proceeds to spear five fries on his fork.

_No you’re not._

McCree distracts him with talk about he has chaps and spurs to match his hat like a proper cowboy except he can’t ride a horse because he’s afraid of them. Hanzo thinks he’s ridiculous and McCree ends up swearing that’s he’s the best shot in America and that’s worth more than being able to ride a horse. 

Hanzo’s phone rings and he ignores it in favor of hiding his laugh behind his glass.

Hanzo likes him. Hanzo _really_ likes him. He wonders if it’ll be too bold a move to reach over and take McCree’s hand.

His phone rings again and Hanzo frowns and reaches into his pocket fully intent on turning the damn thing off. It’s Genji’s name highlighted on the screen that has him bringing the phone up to his ear.

McCree stops mid sentence and Hanzo struggles to feel bad when all he can hear is Genji crying.

“Genji? Genji, what’s wrong?”

“Brother, I – I can’t.”

Hanzo stands up. “Genji! Genji, where are you,” he asks and tries to keep calm even when his heart is pounding. “Please. Please don’t do anything.”

McCree’s already pulling bills out his wallet, slamming them on the table and then hooking an arm around Hanzo and leading them outside.

“I’m home. I – I’m not. I’m not going to do anything. I just –,” Genji’s gasping the words out. He’s panicking and Hanzo’s not there. He’s panicking because Hanzo went on stupid date with a man that makes him smile. He should have been home with his brother.

He rushes down the street with nothing but Genji’s sobs in his ear and feeling that stabs at Hanzo. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. “Just - Just stay where you are, okay Genji? I’m coming.”

McCree’s by his side and Hanzo doesn’t really know why. His face his stiff and there’s worry in his eyes and Hanzo can’t imagine how he looks right now.

“I just wanted – I was going to -,”

“It’s okay, Genji. It’ll be fine.”

\--

They find Genji in the kitchen.

The fridge stands open and empty and Genji sits at the little table covered in food. Cooked food, still warm and good and dished out on plates.

He’s made a feast for one person.

Hanzo stumbles over to his brother’s side.

Genji won’t even look at him. Eyes stuck on the food he gasps and chokes on breaths that don’t make it out properly. Face wet with tears he shakes his head. “Brother, I couldn’t do it. I-I – couldn’t -,” he cries. 

There’s an unused fork in front of him.

His brother tried.

“Genji. Genji, it’s okay,” Hanzo urges and tries to pry away Genji’s hands. They’re tugging at his hair, hard enough to hurt. A punishment. He manages to peel Genji’s fingers away and then cups Genji’s face and forces him to look at him.

“It’s okay,” Hanzo repeats, desperate. “It’s okay. I’m here. Genji, it’s okay.”

Genji stills in his hands for a moment and Hanzo thinks he’s about to collapse. Then his face twists in anger, he yells out and an arm sweeps everything off the table. The plates smash and Hanzo falls against the kitchen counters hard enough to wind him. 

He sits, mouth gaping, trying to form words and reaching for his brother as Genji leaves the room.

McCree stands in the doorway with a look that makes shame flood Hanzo. He doesn’t know why he let McCree come with him. He wasn’t supposed to see this. Maybe Hanzo’s just too greedy for comfort. It makes his heart clench. Now McCree knows he can’t even look after his own brother. He ducks his head for a moment; humiliated. 

Everything hurts.

“Please leave.”

“Darlin’, I’m here for ya two. Ain’t gotta go through something like this alone.”

Hanzo picks himself up onto shaky legs. He can’t quite look McCree in the eye. “McCree. Please go,” he says and wraps his arms around himself.

He walks past McCree, leaves him standing in the kitchen and heads to the locked bathroom door where Hanzo leans his forehead against the wood and just breathes. Just for a moment.

He feels McCree next to him, gets a hand on his shoulder and a “If ya need anything just call okay?”

McCree leaves and it doesn’t lift any sort of weight. Hanzo feels like he’s drowning and he can’t pull himself up this time. He sinks to the floor, back against the bathroom door and listens as Genji cries.

He can do nothing but wait.

And when Genji begins to retch, throwing up only bile and nothing else, Hanzo digs his nails into his palms. If he could take all of Genji’s fucked up pain he would. But he can’t. So Hanzo sits there as hours pass and dry heaves turn to quiet sobs.

Hanzo falls asleep at some point, collapsed on the floor and drained. He’s not conscious when the bathroom door cracks open. And he barely manages to blink his eyes open for a few seconds when an arm curls around his waist and another under his knees.

Genji lifts him gently, like he’s worth more than he is. Hanzo gets carried to his bed and in the dark it’s easy for Genji to press a kiss on his forehead and mumble an apology.

Hanzo descends back into sleep thinking he should be the one saying sorry.

\--

Very bad days are usually followed by okay ones; like those periods of calm after a storm. Hanzo wakes with a groan and stretch and smacks his arm straight into Genji’s thigh. Face buried in a pillow he peers up enough to see Genji sat beside him, coffee in one hand and nibbling on a piece of toast. Genji’s hands shake but he’s eating, so Hanzo doesn’t say anything.

Hanzo feels exhausted, limbs too heavy to move and he must doze off again because the next time he opens his eyes Genji’s curled up next to him.

They only sleep together like this when it’s been really bad. Genji seeks comfort after bad days and a warm body sleeping next to him seems to be the only thing he’ll allow. Hanzo won’t admit it but he needs it too. It’s grounding. He’s close enough to see Genji’s thin wrists and gaunt face but he’s also close enough just to feel how _alive_ Genji still is.

So if Hanzo takes a few minutes to wrap an arm around Genji’s waist, pull him in and just hold him, no one’s going to tell anyone.

It’s nice. And for a little while Hanzo can pretend everything’s okay.

Genji disturbs the peace by twisting an arm over and behind Hanzo. He fumbles around for a bit and then rolls onto his back, light and cigarette in his hand. 

Hanzo misses the warmth.

He doesn’t say anything when Genji lights up in bed. He just watches Genji inhale, then exhale and then steals the cancer stick and takes a drag of his own. Hanzo lifts the cigarette back to Genji’s lips. 

Genji peeks a look at him. “Thank you, brother,” he murmurs. 

It’ll be the closest Genji will get to acknowledging anything happened last night. And Hanzo finds himself grabbing at those words with both hands because it’s also the closest Genji will ever get to admitting that there’s a problem. 

“It’s fine,” Hanzo nods and the smile Genji gives him is genuine.

It’s fine because Hanzo will fight this thing for both of them. 

\--

They smoke the weekend away. Cigarettes change to blunts and the ramen Hanzo makes them turns to vodka when Genji presses the bottle into his hand.

Hanzo finds that it’s okay because Genji’s smiling and gossiping and being himself. So he doesn’t make any sort of fuss about having to restock the fridge. He does make a halfhearted attempt at cleaning the kitchen and then drags his body to the couch where Genji throws his feet into Hanzo’s lap.

Genji tells him about the cute medic girl on campus. How nice her eyes are and how big her smile is and how she lets him buy her cupcakes.

“Brother, she’s so – I dunno! I think I like her,” Genji laughs and Hanzo finds himself grinning because Genji’s blush doesn’t match his green hair.

He’s happy for Genji. He really is. 

Genji quizzes him about his own love life, “Anyone from work, brother?” and Hanzo remains stubborn until there’s a skinny elbow digging him in the ribs and he relents.

“There’s… someone. But I am not sure,” Hanzo offers and he can barely get the words out before Genji’s throwing an arm over his shoulders and squealing. 

“What’s he like? Is he nice? Is he handsome?”

Hanzo thinks of McCree. The man whose eyes crinkle when he smiles and who gives Hanzo so many compliments he doesn’t know what to do with them all.

But McCree is also the man who now knows what a mess his life is. He saw his tiny shit apartment with cheap furniture and damp in the corners. He saw Genji at his worst and he saw that Hanzo can’t fix him.

Genji pokes at him.

“Yeah. He is,” Hanzo says.

Genji laughs and ruffles his hair. He takes another drag from the blunt between his fingers and then launches into an essay about how smart Angela is. 

Hanzo doesn’t even notice the way his stomach hurts when Genji is happy.

\--

Hanzo wakes up weeks later with a headache that won’t go away. He downs a cup of coffee, takes painkillers and fights to get an apple into Genji’s hands before he flees. He ends up smoking two cigarettes before he even makes it to the office and falls down into his designated desk with a heavy sigh.

Hours pass, numbers dance in front of his eyes and he almost falls asleep at his computer before he jerks awake berates himself for such a thing. But it’s hard to concentrate when Hanzo’s got a pounding pain in his head and rubbing at his temples does nothing but frustrate him. 

He eventually pulls himself from his desk by a strong thirst that comes from nowhere. He stumbles down the corridor and almost trips over his own feet.

Hanzo is at the water dispenser when McCree appears at his side. He scowls. McCree’s desk is on the floor above. He knows this because McCree has told him. And he’s waving around a stack of papers too obviously for it to be anything but an excuse to come down to his floor.

“Ya missed break again,” McCree says. Hanzo doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s purposely been going at times when McCree won’t be there.

He shrugs. “Works kept me busy.” 

“I get that.” 

His plastic cup fills with water and he takes it in hand and turns. He feels dizzy instantly.

And McCree’s got a strange look on his face and Hanzo’s not sure if he likes it.

“Darlin’, you’re doing okay, right?”

“Yes. I’m okay,” Hanzo nods and brings his hand up to take a drink. His hand shakes and he misses his mouth on the first attempt. He pulls the cup away and wipes the water off his cheek and tries again. 

This time he can’t even get the cup to his lips properly. His hand shakes too much and there’s water spilling from the cup and onto his suit. His head hurts. 

“Hanzo?”

“I’m fine,” he insists but he’s struggling to focus on the cup now. And when he looks up McCree looks blurry, out of focus.

“Ya need to sit down? Ya don’t look too good.” McCree’s reaching out for him and Hanzo doesn’t want his care so he extends to push his hand away; except he misses and ends up swiping at thin air.

“I’m thirsty.” Even as he says it the cup falls from his lax fingers and he’s too slow, too sluggish to catch it. Water spills on his shoes and Hanzo stands and blinks as the cup rolls away.

Then his knees give out, everything goes black for a moment. He becomes fully conscious again to find McCree holding him round the waist and saying his name over and over. 

“Hey! Hanzo? Hanzo, look at me.”

Hanzo steadies himself with a hand on McCree’s chest and shakes his head to clear the spinning. “I -.” He pushes out of McCee’s hold. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had lunch yet, too busy.”

McCree’s silent for a moment and Hanzo prays for him to just nod and walk away. But then McCree’s grabbing his hand pulling him down the corridor until they get to the men’s bathroom.

It’s empty inside. Hanzo doesn’t say anything when McCree locks the door and turns back to him. 

He sighs. “Sweetheart…” 

Hanzo spares him a glance. “I don’t understand. I told you, I haven’t had lunch yet. It’s not an issue, I’m fine.”

McCree looks like he’s battling with himself for a moment. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. His eyes look everywhere but Hanzo until he finally seems to find courage somewhere.

“When did you last eat?”

“What?” 

“When did you last eat?”

Hanzo frowns, confused. “Genji is the one with the eating disorder.”

“And when did _you_ last eat, Hanzo?”McCree asks again.

“I -,” he begins and a few seconds later finds himself unable to form any sort acceptable answer. Hanzo’s stomach churns and he finds himself clutching it all of a sudden. “I – I can’t remember.”

McCree gives him a sad smile that’s full of pity and it makes Hanzo hurt. “You’re just as bad your brother and you don’t even realize it.”

Hanzo shrinks at those words. They hurt. They flood with shame and insecurity. They make his headache flare up and produce a stomach pain that’s so strong that Hanzo’s has to clutch the bathroom counter.

He tries to recall when he last ate. Yesterday? No. The day before that. 

But he’s not Genji. Genji doesn’t eat because Genji doesn’t want to eat. Genji hates himself when he eats. Hanzo isn’t like that. 

He’s okay. He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with him. 

Hanzo shakes his head and then stands tall, proud like he wants to be. “No,” he snarls and steps forward. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Darlin’ –.“

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Hanzo…” McCree tries.

“I am not my brother. I am not _sick_ ,” he spits out. Face a grimace, fists clenched. 

“Every week your belt gets tighter because your clothes get looser. Ya don’t eat at work and I bet ya don’t eat at home either. Look at this,” McCree says and pulls Hanzo’s hands up so they can both see. 

It’s the first time Hanzo notices how much they shake. And they don’t look like they normally do. They look cold. Frail. Wrong. 

They look like Genji’s hands.

Hanzo pulls his hands away. He takes a second to squeeze his eyes shut and then opens them again and stares down at his hands. They look normal now. His hands. Not Genji’s. 

“You think I’m disgusting?” 

“Sweetheart,” McCree cups his cheeks. “This thing. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful. You’re amazin, and strong and you can fight _this_.”

There’s a bitterness creeping over Hanzo. He doesn’t like McCree’s claims. Doesn’t like what he’s saying because McCree is wrong. 

He’s _normal_. 

“I don’t have an eating disorder,” Hanzo says firmly. “Goodbye McCree.”

He leaves McCree behind in the bathroom and spends the rest of the day at his desk biting his knuckles and trying to force McCree’s words out of his mind.

\--

McCree brings him a coffee every day at work after that. There are least three sachets on sugar in it and it’s too sweet but Hanzo drinks it anyway. They don’t talk. But every time there’s a coffee at his desk there’s also a number scrawled on the side of the cup.

Hanzo saves the number on the first day and doesn’t say anything.

By the second week McCree’s bringing him a bag of chopped fruit each day too. They're thrown in the bin, uneaten because Hanzo’s fine. He knows when to eat and how much to eat. He doesn’t need McCree thinking he knows what Hanzo needs.

It takes Hanzo three whole weeks to do it but eventually he gets the courage to strip naked in front of the bathroom mirror. He’s afraid he’ll see something that’s changed. So he’s cautious at first, peering at himself like he’s never seen any of it before.

Hanzo frowns. 

His body looks adequate. Hanzo twists and turns and nods to himself because everything is okay. He’s still muscular and short and tanned and everything else that makes Hanzo. He’s not sick. McCree has it all wrong.

Hanzo scoffs and rolls his eyes and thinks how ridiculous it all is. 

His reflection stares back and for a moment Hanzo finds himself wondering if his legs have always looked that frail. His skin looks dry and his hair seems thin and Hanzo can’t remember ever seeing his ribs like this.

He blinks. 

And suddenly everything is there in the mirror, highlighted and screaming and now so obvious Hanzo doesn’t know how he hasn’t seen it before. He backs up against the wall and all of a sudden he can’t breathe.

He’s pathetic. He’s weak. 

He sinks to the floor, phone in one hand and the other wrapped around kneecaps that are pronounced. 

Hanzo clicks on McCree’s name with shaky fingers and almost hangs up at the second ring. 

McCree answers on fourth. “Darlin’?”

“Jesse,” he whispers. He’s terrified. Terrified to admit something he didn’t even know was happening. Hanzo’s cheeks are wet with tears and he wipes them away hurriedly. He hasn’t cried in decades.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Jesse murmurs and Hanzo tries his best to find comfort in his voice. “Just breathe, darlin’. Take ya time.”

Hanzo listens. He listens and breathes. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Over and over again until it’s familiar again and doesn’t make him feel like he’s choking.

If Hanzo’s at war with himself, how’s he supposed to win if he has to defeat himself?

He can’t. He’s lost before he’s even tried. 

“I -,” he tries and fails. “ I… I -.” Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut. His stomach twists. 

It’s not just Genji’s eating disorder. It’s now his too. 

“I need help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was always supposed to be a 2-part story but as I'm unsure of the type of response I'll get I will wait to see if I'll continue this. Thank you for reading this far.


	2. Believer

It’s a Thursday when Hanzo slams the door of the apartment shut and has to take a moment to lean against the wall because his legs are shaking. His throat is dry and his stomach is crying, aching. Its made everything Hanzo’s done today sluggish. The pear Jesse had forced on him hours ago had hurt going down but it had kept him upright for the day.

He toes off his shoes, lets his jacket fall to the ground and drags his feet through the apartment. In the kitchen he pulls open the fridge, thinks for a second and then pulls out a carton of apple juice. 

Anything else will have him bent over the toilet so he pulls off the cap and chugs down the drink. It’s relief and pain together and his stomach protests; it doesn’t seem to like much of anything. But it’s essential sugar and calories and when the carton is half empty Hanzo slams it down on the kitchen counter and lets out a breathy sigh.

“Shit…” He combs a hand through his hair and shakes his head to clear away the dizziness that had been creeping there all day. Then he straightens up, turns and freezes.

He hasn’t been alone in the kitchen. 

Angela Ziegler is just as beautiful as Genji as described her. She’s petite and fair, blonde haired and blue eyed. She looks out of place leant up against the sink in a kitchen that’s too small. And if she’s uncomfortable by what she just saw, she doesn’t let it show.

“Hello,” she says and her smile is soft. “I’m Angela.”

“Hanzo.” Comes the reply and he reaches over to shake her hand. “Genji talks about you,” he offers. He doesn’t quite know what to say to a woman who just saw what she did.

She blushes. “Does he?”

“He doesn’t shut up about most things. You are pretty high up on the list of things he finds important.”

“He talks about you a lot,” Angela says. “Best brother in the world, he says.” 

Hanzo frowns. He certainly doesn’t feel like a good brother. “I try. Genji can be stubborn.”

“That’s Genji. He’s…charming. We’re going to the café a few block down once he’s out the shower.”

“Right,” Hanzo nods and the conversation dies down for a while. He takes the time to put the juice back in the fridge and then turns back to Angela. “Make sure he eats?”

Hanzo watches something sad creep into Angela’s eyes even though she’s nodding and smiling.

“Of course,” she whispers. 

“Genji is ill,” he says, just to make sure.

“I know.” Of course she does.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault either,” Angela says. “No one can fix Genji but Genji, no one made him ill either. He needs support.”

They hear the shower turn off and Angela excuses herself. At the doorway of the kitchen she pauses and turns back to Hanzo.

“Do you have someone to support you?” she asks.

There’s that feeling again: shame. Angela knows about Genji but it’s almost worse that she knows about Hanzo too. He’d hardly been subtle a few minutes ago. 

“Yes.”

Genji appears at that moment, he wraps an arm around Angela’s waist and nuzzles at her neck in a way that makes her a giggle.

“Hanzo has a real life cowboy!”

“A cowboy?” She looks amused.

Hanzo just rolls his eyes and ushers them out of the apartment. He spends the next few hours cleaning.

Hanzo’s typing numbers on his laptop in the living room when Genji comes back home. It’s past ten and Genji’s got a silly smile on his face and a bruise on his neck and Hanzo can guess what he’s been up to. 

“Did you eat?” Hanzo asks and Genji huffs and walks past him into the kitchen. He appears a while later with a plastic container in his hand and he pops something into his mouth before Hanzo’s had the chance to see.

Genji makes chewing look hard but Hanzo supposes he must too.

“No. I didn’t eat,” Genji says and Hanzo’s about to open his mouth when Genji shakes the container at him. “But your cowboy’s been leaving these in the fridge and they’re kind of okay I guess.” He tips the box so Hanzo can see. It’s filled with chopped up celery and cucumber. 

Hanzo’s fingers pick up piece of celery and he finds the idea of eating it isn’t completely awful. He crunches the food between his teeth. “Jesse McCree is very thoughtful,” he says after he’s swallowed and makes room for Genji on the coach when he collapses down next to him.

“Did you have a good time?”

Genji snuggles into Hanzo’s side. He can feel his smile on his shoulder. “The café had these cupcakes with wings on them and I got Angela one because she’s an angel.”

Hanzo doesn’t ask if Genji got one for himself. 

“And then we went back to hers and…” Genji’s smile grows. “I don’t think her flat mate likes my hair.”

“I don’t think a lot of people like your hair,” Hanzo teases.

“Brother! Rude!” Genji lifts a hand to his hair, pats around and then smacks Hanzo on the head for good measure too. “I think my roots are showing,” he sighs, dramatic as always.

Silence between the brothers is often easy. Hanzo has no issue with Genji clinging to his side and peering at his laptop screen as he types. There’s a certain comfort when they’re close.

“Brother?” Genji asks when everywhere is dark and the only light is the glare of the screen. He’s been quiet for over an hour, dozing against his brother.

“Genji?”

There’s a shaky intake of breath and Hanzo stops typing. Its clear Genji’s had something filling his head for a while. Something on the tip of his tongue he’s been afraid to say.

“Did I make you bad too?” The voice is small and wretched, coming from a man with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders. He grips at Hanzo’s sleeve like when they were young and Hanzo feels the guilt seeping from him. 

“No. You didn’t.” Hanzo wraps an arm round Genji’s shoulders and lets his brother hold him tighter.

“I want to get better. I want you to get better too.”

“We will.“

Genji shifts the plastic container into Hanzo’s lap. “Half and half?” He gestures at the food and picks up a piece.

Hanzo follows his example.

\--

Jesse’s slipped into Hanzo’s life like he’s always been there. He visits after work and on weekends, brings bags of groceries when Hanzo forgets and makes him meals in portions small enough for Hanzo to sometimes manage.

There’ll be days when he’ll clear his plate and Jesse will beam at him like he’s everything. And then there are days when Hanzo simply can’t. Food will either remain cold and uneaten on his plate, or he’ll force it down and end up curled over the toilet, heaving until there’s nothing left. 

Hanzo thinks Jesse should be angry with him on days like that. He’s not quite sure why he bothers to hold Hanzo’s hair out the way when he’s sick, or why he’ll gently pull the fork from Hanzo’s shaking hands when it’s too much.

Jesse stays. Through all of it, even when Hanzo opens the door to him at the end of a weekend in nothing but his sweatpants, unsteady on his feet and unwashed since Friday. 

He doesn’t need to see Jesse’s face. He knows how he looks and he knows it makes Jesse sad. So he stares at his toes until Jesse's peeled off his jacket and shoes. 

The hug Hanzo gets isn't unwanted. He lets himself be pulled into Jesse's arms and tells himself he doesn't deserve any of it even though he clings to Jesse's shirt.

"Ya want to tell me what happened after I left on Friday?” Jesse asks and Hanzo feels guilty in the way he leans into his touch.

"I didn't eat the food you left," he murmurs back and buries his face in Jesse's shirt. "I smoked a pack and drank half a bottle of vodka and threw up in the sink."

“And when did you last eat?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Saturday morning.”

The cowboy sighs and lifts a hand to comb his fingers through Hanzo's hair. "Thank you for telling me."

Hanzo detests that Jesse thinks telling him things is progress. He's pathetic. Nonetheless he nods.

"Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll make us some dinner?” Jesse lifts up the shopping bag he’s got in one hand and Hanzo pulls away even though he doesn’t want to. 

When Jesse disappears into the kitchen with a whistle Hanzo enters the bathroom. He avoids the mirror in there. He doesn't like the way it lies. How the first glance will always show him healthy and it's only the second, or the third, or the fourth look that highlights the sickly skin and visible bones. So he's stopped looking. He climbs straight into the shower and scrubs two days of dirt away under lukewarm water. 

Climbing out he almost pulls on his dirty sweatpants again. Then decides against it and stumbles to the bedroom to throw on something clean. A t-shirt that used to be tight but is now loose and sweatpants that he has to pull as tight as he can to stop them falling off his hips.

Shuffling into the kitchen he falls into a chair and watches Jesse plate up food. It smells good. It always does. And as the plate gets put in front of him Hanzo stares and wonders if he’ll get through this meal. Jesse’s sat opposite him with a portion three times the size of his and that already makes Hanzo feel bad. 

He picks up his fork and rolls a baby potato across the plate; one chicken breast, three tiny potatoes and a little pile of broccoli. 

It’s a kid’s meal at most.

And yet it feels like a feast. It’s too much and Hanzo barely knows where to begin. Fruit and vegetables are sort of okay but meat or carbs often seem like they’re above what Hanzo can handle.

He breathes in deep and exhales because eating is _hard_. Hanzo’s not sure he’s able and the way his hand shakes just makes him feel ashamed. He’s hungry. He can feel that. And yet everything is overwhelming. 

It’s Jesse who saves him again. He doesn’t even say anything as he does it. He just reaches over and scoops all the potatoes onto his plate. Then he comes back with a knife and cuts the chicken breast in half and takes that too.

The relief must be clear on Hanzo’s face because Jesse just nods and then launches into a one-sided conversation about some couple called Gabe and Jack and their adopted gremlin. 

And while Jesse talks Hanzo manages to bring a small mouthful to his lips. He chews, tries not to focus on it and swallows. Then he grips his fork tighter and goes for another. It takes time, and sometimes there are minutes between each mouthful but Hanzo’s doing it. The food disappears slowly.

At some point Genji wanders in, curious as ever. He grins at Jesse’s hat and peers into the pan to see what smell is wafting in the flat. 

“I can plate ya up some too if ya like?” Jesse asks and as expected Genji waves him off and tells them how Angela is waiting for him. He does steal a bit of broccoli to munch on and Hanzo’s happy with that.

They sit like that in silence and Jesse doesn’t seem to mind that it takes over an hour for less than a quarter of Hanzo’s smaller portion to disappear. He’s beyond patient, beyond kind and far above anything Hanzo deserves.

He must have sat silent and still for longer than normal because at some point Jesse reaches over and intertwines their fingers.

“Hanzo? Sweetheart? You okay?”

After a while Hanzo looks up from their hands. He looks at his almost uneaten food and then at Jesse and presses his lips tightly together.

“I have an eating disorder,” Hanzo says. 

Jesse pauses. Then he squeezes Hanzo’s hand and gives a small smile and Hanzo can see how proud he is.

Hanzo ends up almost clearing his plate and when he leans back and puts his fork down Jesse smirks at him over a beer.

Hours later and two smokes later Jesse stands in the hallway and looks like he doesn’t want to leave even though he’ll be round the following evening. And he’ll use any excuse in the book to appear at Hanzo’s desk with a bowl of fruit the next day too.

“Thank you for the meal,” Hanzo says and gives a short bow. He finds courage somewhere to pull Jesse up close to him. Jesse comes easily, ends up walking them both until Hanzo’s back is against the wall.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart,” Jesse croons and Hanzo wonders who made this man’s heart out of gold. 

They press up against each other, Jesse’s hands on his hips and Hanzo’s find themselves buried in Jesse’s hair. Hanzo tilts his head up. He wants to look inviting but he’s not sure if he quite manages it with how frail he looks. 

He wants to taste those lips. Wants Jesse to make his knees weak.

Jesse’s thumbs stroke over his hipbones and Hanzo parts his lips. His breath comes out shaky and needy. 

“I wanna kiss ya so bad, Hanzo,” Jesse whispers.

And Hanzo is the one to give him permission by pulling him close and pressing their lips together.

A swipe of a tongue on his bottom lip and Hanzo lets Jesse in. It’s hot and wet and Hanzo’s panting by the time Jesse pulls back to press tender kisses on his lips. 

Jesse kisses like everything Hanzo’s ever wanted. Strong, dominant and masculine in a way that makes Hanzo want to drown himself in it all. He craves this. 

Jesse runs his hands up his sides and Hanzo sighs, pushes into the touch because it’s been so long. He sucks on Jesse’s bottom lip and then pulls away with a smile.

Jesse’s looking down at him with a smile that lights up the places Hanzo feels most dark. He steals another kiss then pulls back, and then takes another until Hanzo’s laughing against soft lips.

“I’ll see you at work, Jesse,” Hanzo says and Jesse pouts.

“One more,” he says and then kisses Hanzo in a way that’s slow and lazy. No tongue, just the gentle press of lips. 

\--

In the months that follow Jesse sees Hanzo at his best and at his very foulest.

Hanzo’s illness is at its worst when he can’t get up in the mornings, the days when he can do nothing but curl up; everything too cold or too hot. Days when he just _can’t_.

He’ll have eyes devoid of shine and thoughts that scream _what’s the point?_

He’s weak. Mentally. Physically. Thoughts so dark and body so tired he can’t even sleep. 

Sometimes he’ll scratch at his skin until it’s red and painful and sometimes he’ll crawl out of bed and force food down his throat in punishment until his body rejects everything and he ends up gagging and vomiting. His body starves on those days, stomach empty and screaming.

He hates those days when Jesse shows up the most. Hates Genji in those seconds for letting him in. The cowboy will sit at the corner of his bed for hours whilst Hanzo shakes, worthless and nothing and undeserving. It’s rare but occasionally Hanzo will reach across and grab at Jesse’s wrist because he just needs something to ground him. 

And then Hanzo has good days. They outnumber the bad, come with full stomachs and happy smiles and a number on the scales that ticks upwards instead of down.

Days when Hanzo finishes a meal or voluntarily goes for food are considered small victories and Jesse will pepper his face with kisses. There’ll be days when Hanzo laughs at Jesse’s dumb jokes, hours where he can sit and wear Jesse’s silly hat and forget that there’s anything wrong at all.

Good days often end with Jesse’s head between Hanzo’s thighs. He can spend hours teasing Hanzo: biting and licking and sucking. And Hanzo will gasp and shake and his toes will curl because Jesse loves to torment the parts of him that are most sensitive. His inner thigh at the crease, and a little lower too where Jesse loves to open him up with his tongue. 

Hanzo hasn’t had a partner in a long time and it’s been even longer since he’s had one that’s enjoyed pleasing him so much, not that he doesn’t return the favor; Jesse particularly likes the way Hanzo will suck on the head of his cock and leave marks all over his neck and shoulders.

A good day doesn’t always end with Hanzo trembling after an intense orgasm. Sometimes it ends with Genji and him sharing a box of fruit, or watching a film, or that one time Hanzo helped Genji fix his roots. 

Good days end with Hanzo happy and hopeful in a way he hopes will last.

\--

Jesse’s apartment is bigger and better but messy. They don’t talk about it, they don’t compare because Jesse’s not the one funding a younger brother through college on one person’s paycheck. 

He has a king size bed that Hanzo likes to get lost in and a balcony that looks over the city where they stand and smoke in minimal clothing.

The wind is strong and it blows all of Hanzo’s cigarette smoke right back in his face but he finds himself unable to care. Jesse’s humming next to him, cigar on his lips and eyes closed.

It’s moments like this when Hanzo can appreciate Jesse for everything he is. From the light dusting of hair all over and the way a layer of fat covers him. The way he winks and grins and the way he’s weirdly into Hanzo wearing his hat when they fuck. And the way his words help. They don’t heal, only Hanzo can do that, but they hold him up and make him feel able when everything’s crumbing.

Jesse peaks an eye open, puffs out smoke and asks, “What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

Hanzo likes the pet names too.

He shrugs and leans against the railing and does nothing to conceal the way he runs his up Jesse’s body. The implication is clear.

“Darlin’, I’m getting old,” Jesse whines and Hanzo scoffs because they’re both barely halfway to thirty. 

He puts his smoke out and lets himself be pulled into Jesse’s arms. “Maybe you need to fuck me again before you get too old then,” he whispers and smirks when he feels Jesse’s cock give a valiant effort in his underwear. 

“You’re killin’ me here, darlin’.” The reply comes even though Jesse’s already grabbing at his hips and pulling them inside. 

They fuck with Hanzo’s legs thrown over Jesse’s shoulders. The roll of Jesse’s hips, press of his cock and the simple way Jesse pushes him down and claims him. It’s all so much good. It makes Hanzo quiver and moan and just take and take and take. Jesse groans in his ear and when Hanzo scratches his nails down his back he snaps his hips forward and hard and desperate.

Everything is intense when they come, Hanzo clenching around Jesse and staining their stomachs with come. They collapse, panting and sweaty until one of them is able to move, and Hanzo is the one to detach himself. In the bathroom he wipes his body down and returns to the bedroom with a wet towel for Jesse. 

He’s there in time to see Jesse attempt a halfhearted throw of their used condom at the bin. It misses and when Jesse makes no attempt to pick it up Hanzo cocks a brow and smacks the wet towel across Jesse’s face. There’s a yelp and a laugh and then Hanzo’s getting pulled down onto the bed and letting thick arms circle his waist.

Hanzo is draped over Jesse’s chest, naked, half dozing and so content when Jesse reaches over and blindly grabs for his mobile. 

“Darlin’, I don’t know about ya but I’m feelin’ mighty hungry right about now,” Jesse says and his stomach rumbles in support of his words. “Takeaway?”

Hanzo rests his chin on Jesse’s left breast and nods. “Pizza? With chicken?” He asks and starts placing kisses on Jesse’s chest even though he can basically feel Jesse’s beaming smile. 

Hanzo doesn’t normally request for specific food, just nibbles on what he’s given or makes basic stuff he can push around a plate. So eventually he has to stop with way he’s biting and licking at Jesse’s chest and glance back up.

“Improvement?” He asks quietly and Jesse nods.

“Yeah. Improvement,” Jesse replies and busies himself with ordering food. He runs a hand through Hanzo’s hair and Hanzo lets himself lie there and listen to the rumble of Jesse’s voice and feel the touch of his fingers.

The food arrives and Jesse answers the door with nothing but a hand covering his cock and Hanzo throwing pillows at his head for his indecency. 

They end up sat naked on the bed, steaming pizza box between them. Jesse lets Hanzo open the box and he lets Hanzo pick the smallest slice too. And neither of them says anything when Hanzo sits with a pizza slice dripping grease onto his shaky fingers until he takes a small bite and it’s like an unknown pressure is released. 

The food is hot and oily and the taste is almost too much on his tongue but then it’s okay. It’s not horrible and twisting and his mind isn’t screaming. 

It’s manageable. 

He nibbles at the food, ends up with endless cheese strings hanging off his chin that have Jesse laughing and lets Jesse lick tomato sauce off his fingers. 

Everything’s warm and happy and Hanzo almost doesn’t notice when he finishes his first slice and picks up another. His stomach aches like it always does but it’s easy not to think about it when Jesse is grabbing his face with oily fingers and pulling him in for a kiss that’s too much pizza and not enough lips. 

Hanzo likes this. He likes all of this. He likes Jesse and he likes that his body doesn’t seem to completely hate him in moments like this. His body is letting him try. 

And when he puts down the crust of his second slice and doesn’t go for another it’s not because the idea of eating more makes him sick, it’s because he’s full. Two slices is barely anything but it feels like _something_.

“You okay?” Jesse asks, mouth full and crumbs in his beard. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Hanzo says and it’s alright because he believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had initially avoided writing a second part as I hadn't thought the first part would be well received. I ended up getting a lot of positive comments and so this second part turned from ideas into actual words. If you made it here, thank you. And if you liked it, thank you even more.


End file.
